


The Importance of Definitions

by intextrovert



Series: Tinder AU [2]
Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Genre: (I am procrastinating schoolwork that is what I'm doing), F/F, Héloïse the Useless Lesbian, Sophie the Well-Meaning Shithead, all is well, also not a sequel just a silly drabble whatever, communicating is HARD y'all. but they're trying., shameless fluff, this was never supposed to get a sequel of any kind wtf am I doing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intextrovert/pseuds/intextrovert
Summary: Marianne and Héloïse goes to a party, which, actually, is kind of not at all the point of this story. But it is partly the setting, so yeah.
Relationships: Héloïse/Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)
Series: Tinder AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933903
Comments: 13
Kudos: 100





	The Importance of Definitions

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a drabble for funsies and then decided to clean it up and post it because I'm trying to avoid writing an essay on Feminist Philosophy. Such is life.
> 
> Anyway, this is a small continuation of Tinder AU, which you can find through a link somewhere above *waves vaguely*, and this will probably make zero sense unless you've read that fluff-bonanza first. Just so you know.

Someday, probably quite soon from now, Sophie will get you in trouble. You’re certain.

She’s like the younger sibling you never had, in the good ways and the bad. Fiercely loyal, and terribly annoying. It’s just that during the last three-or-so months she’s been completely incapable of not grabbing any opportunity she gets to harass you about Marianne. What started with the jibe about you “finally getting some” when she returned from Paris that first weekend has continued. The amount of indiscreet questions, jokes and comments she comes up with is at a steady level of awful, not helped in the slightest by the fact that Marianne finds it all to be hilarious, and cheers Sophie on in her endeavours to make you squirm.

And that would be okay, you suppose, if it wasn’t for the fact that Sophie also has terrible language. Not terrible as in she curses a lot – between the two of you, you’re definitely the more foul-mouthed – but in that Sophie is being very liberal in her choice of words when she talks _about_ you and Marianne.

The latest incident – Marianne was barely out of earshot, curled up on the sofa with a book while you and Sophie were cooking dinner (Marianne is not unenthusiastic about food, quite the opposite, but you have learned that for the most part it’s better to let her partake in eating it only, and not so much the cooking bit. There has been smoke, once or twice, and a no-stick pan that will never quite be the same again.) and Sophie asked if your _girlfriend_ likes mushrooms.

She does.

But you’re not sure if she’s your girlfriend.

It’s all very vague and stupid, and if you’re being honest with yourself, a lot (if not all) of it is your own fault. You could just ask her. Since that long weekend when you first met, you’ve spent as much time together as life has allowed. The longest timespan of you _not_ seeing each other happened when Marianne traveled to visit her family. Those eight days were.. not fun. Sophie called you a pining cactus by the end of day five. And no videocalls in the world can make up for real life cuddling.

Marianne has developed a habit of falling asleep on top of you. You have no complaints.

But you’re not sure if she’s your girlfriend.

(Even though the hanging out all the time, and the constant touching, and her telling you about the most random little details of her days are kind of very girlfriend-y things to do.)

You should just ask her.

You’re maybe 85 percent sure she would agree if you did.

It’s just that it scares you.

Your biggest fear right now (not counting the constant ones that haunt all of humankind – like death, war, famine, and men with too much power and not enough brain cells) is that Marianne will overhear Sophie referring to her as your girlfriend, or you dating, and just go

_“Girlfriend? Wait, what? No, this is just a casual thing, right?”_

You don’t like the word casual, you never have. It doesn’t fit your personality in the slightest. And you dislike it even more right now. The thought of Marianne ever referring to this.. thing, that the two of you have as “casual” makes you feel like your insides are made of concrete and you might cry.

But Sophie is relentless, she insists that her choice of vocabulary will “assist in the process of you womaning up”.

It’s stressing you out.

* * *

One of Marianne’s colleagues is turning thirty, and since it’s summer and the first of probably many horrible heatwaves is currently thrown over all of western Europe like an obnoxious blanket, there is a garden party happening. And you’re coming with.

That’s alright, you’ve met a fair few of her friends already, and some of the ones that were at the bar that first night, you know them well enough by now to not freak out on the inside if Marianne is elsewhere for a while.

This is a much larger gathering though, and you’re kind of dreading the stiff mingling that always seems to happen in the beginning of these things. But Marianne is going to wear a blue dress in a sheer sort of fabric, and she’s gotten a bit of a tan lately, and she texts you fifteen times while getting ready because according to her, her hair is in “The Terrible Phase” of being to long to be short but to short to be long. You tell her that you don’t understand a word of what she’s saying, which is true because her hair could never be terrible (except maybe that one time when she came down with a fever and didn’t wash it for a few days too many and it got quite greasy, but that doesn’t count because she was sick), and you tell her again when you meet her at the bus stop. Then you tell her something somewhat inarticulate about her legs and her dress, and then about a book you started reading, and she smiles.

You’ve put on a dress too, and a long necklace that your sister gave you a couple of christmases ago, and you’re a little bit uncomfortable, but it’s currently too hot out to wear anything else. Except maybe cutoff jeans or gym shorts, but you’re trying to make an impression on people here, so no. Dress it is.

* * *

You get off the bus on the outskirts of town, in the no-mans-land of former villages slowly being surrounded by suburban villas popping up like mushrooms on what used to be farmland, and it’s as if Marianne reads your mind.

“It’s not actually his place, it’s his parents’. Much more convenient to be in a garden than having a party in a city flat.”

“Mhm,” you agree, suspiciously eyeing a shiny SUV on a driveway. Your mother would feel right at home here.

There are a couple of balloons tied to a mailbox to your right, and you pass through the gate in a well kept hedge to enter a large garden.

“Adrien! Salut!” Marianne calls out as the two of you walk down the gravel walkway towards the people gathered on the lawn, and a tall, dark haired man in a light grey shirt turns around.

“Bonne anniversaire,” Marianne says as they embrace and kiss the air.

Then.

“This is my girlfriend, Héloïse.”

You blink, twice.

“Enchantée,” Adrien says, and you thank whatever higher beings that some things, like how to greet people, are ingrained in the core of your brain and your body moves on autopilot, because suddenly everything feels a little muted and fuzzy around the edges. As if someone turned down the volume of life and replaced it with your heartbeat, like thunder in your ears.

Girlfriend.

She just-

_Girlfriend._

You hand over Adrien’s gift, and he leads you both to a table set up in the shade that is loaded with various beverages. Marianne sneaks her hand into yours.

You have a glass of cider, minding yourself a little, this is not the time or place to get stupidly drunk, at least not before sunset. The outside of the glass is dripping with condensation thanks to the heat, drops of water rolling over your fingers.

There are more introductions, and it happens again, and again, and combined with the heat and the cider, before long it's as if your feet are hovering a few centimeters above the grass.

Girlfriend.

For a short moment, you almost feel annoyed because she just sprung it on you like that. No warning. Didn’t even ask. But most of all you’re relieved.

Girlfriend.

* * *

It’s a fun party, and you were right in your prediction of the rowdiness increasing in sync with the loss of daylight. There are lights hung up between the trees in the back, and there is dancing and shouting and many more glasses of cider, and Adrien’s parents’ neighbours must have been forewarned and/or are very nice and tolerant because people are loud. And fun.

You never really descend from your cloud though, and maybe the ones here that have met you before find you a bit more quiet than usual, but you have a lot on your mind. Not too much, not to keep you from failing abysmally at limbo, or dancing like a crazy person whenever a song that is not shit is playing, but the tiny voice in the back of your head keeps whispering “she said girlfriend” on repeat throughout the whole evening, and it's a bit distracting.

It’s way past midnight when you tumble into a taxi with Marianne and her best friend Emelyne. The temperature is almost at a bearable level, and sitting down in relative silence makes you realise how tired you are. You pay your share of the cab fare and say goodbye to Em, and then the two of you get out and stagger up the stairs to your apartment.

Unlike other times, you actually keep quiet, Sophie will have nothing to complain about – leaning against each other as you sit on the edge of the bathtub while brushing your teeth. Your bedroom is blissfully cool, and Marianne faceplants onto the bed after stripping off everything but her underwear. No heatwave in the world can kill her cuddling instincts though, and she pulls your arm tight around her as soon as you lie down too.

You’re close to falling asleep, as is Marianne, and maybe the calm drowsiness helps a little when you finally manage to ask her.

“So I’m your girlfriend, hm?”

Your voice is not much more than a whisper, and maybe you wish you would have sounded a bit more cheeky and a little less scared, but at least now you've said it.

She’s unslumbered in an instant, turning around to face you. There’s this look on her face, almost apologetic, but it’s a little hard to tell since the only source of light are the streetlamps three stories below.

After a short silence she swallows.

“It feels like you are.”

Her voice is tiny too.

It feels like your heart is about to burst.

You’re mirrored images, laying opposite each other, hands tucked in front of your chests. Move a centimeter, take her hand in yours.

“I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend before. Never serious enough for someone to say it, anyway.”

She gets this soft look in her eyes when you’ve said that, the one that appears whenever she is feeling Feelings, and she’s running her fingers through your hair, thumb stroking your jaw. There’s a distinct difference between this look, and the other one, that appears when – nevermind.

“I really like being your girlfriend,” you tell her, then add “like officially. I know it’s early to tell, but the first six hours and twenty-seven minutes have been excellent. Just thought you should know. I’ve heard that feedback is important.”

“Banane,” Marianne says affectionately, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

When she’s looking again, you kiss her, long and sweet because it feels like the most essential thing in the world right now. Yawning, languid, legs tangled, and you are guaranteed to wake up with a numb arm tomorrow morning, thanks to Marianne’s heavy head on it when you both drift off, kissing your way to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Me @ me: WTF?
> 
> Also, thanks to p.28 people for bringing this story to the forefront of my mind again.


End file.
